The Masterpiece

Aurora always believed the desert could make something beautiful out of anyone, even her. She'd grown up on Windy Pass, where the wind never stopped and the dust never settled, and she'd learned early that if she wanted something lovely in her life, she'd have to make it herself.

Her laptop cast a pale glow across her small living room while the desert wind rattled the thin windows like impatient fingers. She sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through her inbox with a mixture of hope and exhaustion. The messages were all the same half-baked "opportunities" from strangers who clearly hadn't read her profile.

One man wanted to film her getting tickled for "research". Another offered fifty dollars if she'd pose wearing nothing but lizards covering her private parts. Someone asked if she'd be willing to model "Tasteful alien abduction scenarios" in his garage. She stared at the screen with one eyebrow raised. Barstow might have been a waste land for real modeling work, but it was a fertile ground for weirdos. Still, she clicked through each message carefully, determined not to miss anything real. The desert outside was empty and unforgiving, but inside her inbox, she kept searching for the one message that might finally lead her somewhere better.

She had never planned on becoming a model, it just sort of unfolded around her. She bought a battered Kodak EasyShare and a ring light from a pawn shop on Main Street and then she built a profile on MojaveModels.com. It started with small grainy selfies and stiff poses she'd copied from America's Next Top Model reruns wearing dresses she found for cheap, but she improved fast. She learned angles and how to do her own hair and makeup. She learned how to make the Mojave Desert look and feel like her own runway.

Her gallery was finally becoming something she could look at without flinching, something she felt was proof she wasn't just another girl with a camera and a dream. One image in particular made her feel tremendously proud. It was a sunset portrait she's taken beside a Joshua tree, the sky melting into gold behind her. The desert light had caught her dress just right, turning the fabric into a glowing image of orange, that made her look like she was wrapped up in the sun itself. It was like she belonged to the landscape instead of merely posing in it. It was the first photo that made her think, Maybe I really can do this.

Since then, she'd taken a few more. One photo depicted her in a dramatic gown spread across the train tracks near Lenwood Road, another was a windblown shot in the scrub, her hair tangles and wild, the desert stretching behind her like an endless stage. She was so proud of what she was accomplishing and so blown away by her own beauty and creativity. She knew she was going to do big things. She could feel it. She wasn't famous... yet. But she was getting noticed.

One person noticed more than anyone else. Trevis Isaacs. they had been texting and emailing back and forth for several months now.

Six months earlier:

Trevis: Your Joshua tree set is gorgeous! You have a great sense of presence

Aurora: Thank you! I'm trying to build a real portfolio but Barstow is... Barstow...

Trevis: Tell me about it. Half the messages I get are form people wanting "creative ideas" that are basically fetish videos

Aurora: OMG SAME!!! Someone asked if he could pay me to be tickled on camera... like... sir, please. :/

Trevis: I get the opposite. Women want me to pay them hundreds just to show up. I can't afford that

Aurora: I have had several people offer to pay me in drugs -_- so frustrating. I just want legit work.

Trevis: I have an idea! What if we did work for word? No money just portfolio building?? I specialize in doll themed photography.. you'd be perfect for it!

Aurora: Doll themed? Like living dolls?

Trevis: Exactly. I do all the editing myself. Shiny porcelain skin.. fun backgrounds.. eye lights. I have a whole set up designed to make my models fit right in. I have this oversized chair and plushies even. It would look so cook! You'd get incredible shots.

Trevis: *cool. Not sure why autocorrect makes everything wrong haha XD

Aurora: LOL they should really call it 'auto incorrect'... but you know what? Yeah... I'm in.

They had talked almost every day since. they had been sharing ideas about what her own doll might look like. He shared his portfolio with her, including shots he hadn't posted on his profile, Aurora was excited and finally felt like she was being taken seriously by someone equally serious about their own body of work.

Trevis: had a model stopping by today... no show again

Aurora: not cool. IDK why people think they can just do whatever they want with this type of work. A job is a job, if you make a commitment show up... ya know?

Trevis: yeah... meh... que sera sera.

Aurora: :(

Aurora: we just need to get out of Barstow. I'm sure its much easier to work literally anywhere else lol

Trevis: I feel like theres diamonds to be harvested here though, if only they'd show up to shine.

Aurora: yeah. welp, maybe the wind will blow them your way haha! It's been crazy here lately!

Trevis: Seriously! Lucky my house hasn't blown away yet XD

Trevis: hey! I got some more concepts btw. You still down for that photoshoot?

Aurora: well duh!

Trevis: Sending you some sketches now ->

[concept drawings attached]

Aurora opened up the file. The first sketch was a woman seated on a velvet stool with impossibly straight posture. her eyes were wide and glassy, the pupils drawn with tiny white highlights to mimic the shine or porcelain. Her hair was styled in thick, perfect curls, like an old fashioned collectible doll. The background was a soft pastel gradient, almost like a toy box.

The second was a bit more elaborate. This one showed a girl posed in a frilly dress with puffed sleeves, standing in front of a backdrop that looked like a Victorian nursery. Her hands were positioned delicately at her sides with her fingers slightly curled. the shading around her joints made them look almost hinged.

She scrolled on to the next one. This sketch made Aurora smile. It had a desert scene with a doll shaped figure sitting on a cracked stretch of the Mojave earth with a giant Joshua tree behind her. Her dress was layered and whimsical. This was the kind of dress Aurora would kill to wear in a shoot. The eyes were huge and reflective, almost luminous. The wind was drawn sweeping her hair sideways, but her expression was serene.

The fourth and final sketch was more stylized. This one depicted a close-up portrait. The face was smooth and flawless with exaggerated lashes and a tiny heart shaped mouth. Like the rest, the eyes had that signature 'Trevis' shine, two perfect white dots that made them look like glass. The lighting felt dramatic. It was stunning.

Aurora scrolled back through them. She was impressed. They were weird, sure, but in a beautiful way. They were artistic and unique. Exactly the kind of thing that could make her profile stand out. She was getting more excited to participate in this project. As she scrolled, her instant messenger chimed again.

Trevis: Soooooo whatcha think??? :)

Aurora: I love them! When can we do this?

Trevis: I'm free this weekend?

Aurora: that actually works for me too

Trevis: So we good?

Aurora: Ya! Let's do this!

Aurora locked her front door with the same little twist and push she'd done a thousand times, the metal sticking slightly in the dry heat. The wind had already picked up, rattling the loose gutter, and sending a swirl of dust skittering across the driveway. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and headed toward her car.

Her 2001 Dodge sat waiting like an old and loyal dog. It had faded red paint and a passenger window that only rolled down halfway. The engine coughed every time she turned the key, but it always started. She slid into the driver's seat, the vinyl warm from the sun, and tossed her bag onto the passenger side.

The engine sputtered, then caught. The radio flickered on with a burst of static before settling into a half clear station playing early 2000's rock. Her tires crunched over the gravel as she backed out of the driveway and eased onto Windy Pass.

The neighborhood rolled by in familiar shapes. The street was full of modest homes with sun-bleached siding, chain-link fences, and yards made of gravel instead of grass. A couple of kids rode bikes in lazy circles near the corner and a dog barked somewhere behind a fence. The desert pressed in at the edges of everything, wide and empty and quivering with heat.

As she turned onto the main road, the houses thinned out. The wind carried dust across the asphalt in thin, ghostly sheets. The drive to Grandview wasn't long, but it felt like crossing into a different version of Barstow. The streets grew quieter. the houses sat farther apart, separated by patches of desert dotted with creosote bushes and the occasional rusted out car someone had given up on. Mailboxes leaned at odd angles, beaten by years of wind... or maybe children with nothing better to do.

Her Dodge rattled over a dip in the road as she turned onto Grandview. The sun was starting its slow decent, casting long shadows against the dirt pull-offs. She checked the address again, though she already knew it by heart.

Trevis's house appeared at the end of the road, half hidden by overgrown tamarisk trees that swayed like tired dancers in the wind. The dust rose around the tires of her vehicle as she pulled into the dirt clearing. the sudden silence settled over her like a blanket. For a moment, she sat there, hands on the steering wheel, heart fluttering with a mix of nerves and excitement.

This was it. Her first real collaboration. Her first chance to make something that could push her profile to the next level. She grabbed her bag, stepped out into the warm desert air, and headed toward the house. Her shoes crunched on the gravel as she walked up the path and toward the door that opened before she even reached it.

Trevis stood in the doorway with a big smile on his face. For a moment, Aurora's brain stalled. He looked exactly like his profile picture, but somehow more of everything. He was so much taller than she had imagined. He was lanky in a way that made his clothes hang off of him. He seemed to be all elbows and angles. His shoulders looked narrow beneath a button up shirt that looked a size too big. His brown hair was neatly combed but stubbornly flat and his glasses were rectangular and slightly smudged, catching the light as he smiled. That cheesy smile showed off teeth that were just a bit too large for his face.

But there was something undeniably professional about him. He stood with the posture of someone used to directing people. Aurora knew that he knew how to adjust lights and angles perfectly and that he was used to being the one who saw the whole picture. his voice was warm and friendly.

"Aurora!" he said, and his smile widened. "You showed up!"

She felt herself relax. He wasn't intimidating or aloof like some photographers she'd met online. Just a little awkward, which she didn't mind. Hell, she was awkward too.

As she stepped closer, she caught the faint scent of clean laundry on him, mixed with something woodsy. Maybe cedar? Maybe just the tamarisk trees outside breathing through the open doorway. His hands moved constantly when he talked, long fingers sketching shapes in the air as if he couldn't help but animate every thought.

"The wind was so bad last night," he said, shaking his head with exaggerated disbelief. "I swear my mailbox almost took flight. I was ready to chase it down the street like some kind of idiot."

He laughed at his own joke. Aurora smiled too. His laughter was warm and genuine. Looks aside, Trevis was talented and he seemed nice.

"You're exactly how I hoped you'd be." Aurora smiled.

Trevis smiled back.

For a moment, standing there in his doorway with the desert wind tugging at her hair, Aurora felt lucky. Like she finally found someone in Barstow who understood what she was trying to do.

"I am?" Trevis smiled warmly. He fluttered his eyes at her and threw a hand dramatically to his forehead pretending to swoon, leaning back in an exagerrated wobble like he might collapse right there in the doorway.

"Of course," she said, stepping inside. "I've been excited all week."

The pair walked inside and into the living room, which surprised Aurora. Everything was perfectly in place. It didn't look like a scattered after thought like her own photo space at home. Trevis didn't have a huge mess lying about or duct tape holding up equipment like she did. His space looked professional and expensive. Every corner held something related to modeling or photography.

There were racks of dresses in every color and style and shelves of wigs. Aurora had never seen so many shoes outside of a shoe store. Trevis had rows of them lined up by size and heel height. There were ringlights arranged like a halo around the main shooting area and a table covered in makeup palettes and brushes. It looked like a legitimate studio setup.

"Color me impressed." She said, looking around in admiration. "You have so much stuff," she smiled and drifted toward the wardrobe racks. Her fingers brushed a pale blue dress with lace sleeves.

"I like options," Trevis said. "Dolls come in all styles."

He moved with quiet confidence, watching her take it all in. He kept his hands tucked in his pockets like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. Then he cleared his throat. "Uh... so... you thirsty?"

She turned toward him. "Sure. What do you have?"

"Oh, you know," he said, waving a hand dramatically. "Only the finest beverages known to mankind. Rocket fuel infused Barstow water mixed into iced tea or lemonade that may or may not contain chromium 6."

Aurora laughed. "Wow. Nice menu."

"Five stars," he said, then jokingly pressed a hand to his forehead and pretended to faint agian under the weight of his own hospitality. He staggered a step, wobbling like a Victorian damsel, before popping right back up with a grin.

She shook her head, smiling. "You're ridiculous."

"Thank you. I try." He slipped past her toward the kitchen. "C'mon. Let me grab you something before I actually pass out from the pressure."

She followed him, the awkwardness between them softening into something playful. In the kitchen, he opened the fridge with a flourish and pulled out a glass pitcher.

"Citrus mystery drink," he announced. "It's either lemonade or a very confused orange juice."

He poured her a cold glass and handed it over while she continued browsing the racks from the doorway. The drink was chilled enough to bead condensation against her fingers.

"Not bad," she said after a sip.

He looked absurdly proud. "Told you. Only the best for my models."

Aurora smiled into her glass, feeling the room settle. She took a sip of her drink, locking eyes with Trevis for just a second over her cup. He may not have been the most handsome guy she ever saw... but he was funny, and that was sexy.

Trevis smiled at her, almost as if he'd just read her very private thought. "Hydrate," he said lightly. "Desert shoots are brutal."

She took another sip without thinking, licking her lips as she skimmed through the wardrobe. The drink was sweet and refreshing after the hot drive.

Aurora continued to browse while Trevis leaned against the counter with his arms folded, the two of them easing into conversation like people testing the temperature of a pool.

"So... Barstow," he said with a sigh. "Creative capital of absolutely nowhere."

She laughed. "Right? It's like a talent vacuum. You post something cool and it just disappears into the desert."

"Exactly!" He pointed at her with sudden enthusiasm. "I keep thinking, 'Maybe this time someone serious will show up', and then boom... another model flakes."

"How many?" She asked.

He groaned. "Too many. One girl cancelled because Mercury was in retrograde. One showed up and said, 'Oh, I thought you meant, like... selfies'." He mimed holding a phone. "I had lights set up. A backdrop. A whole plan. She wanted duck lips." He shook his head and sighed.

Aurora snorted into her drink. "I get messages from absolute weirdos."

"Oh no," he said, bracing himself. "Hit me."

"Okay," she said, holding up a finger. "Well, that one guy I mentioned in our messages? He wanted me to do tickle videos."

Trevis blinked. "Tickle... like with feathers?"

"Tickle like he wanted to be the one getting tickled."

Trevis raised an eyebrow.

"Or tickling me..." Aurora scrunched up her face.

Trevis made a face back. "Hard pass."

"Then there was the nude lizard guy."

"Please tell me that's not literal."

"Oh, it was literal. He wanted to strip me down and cover me in lizards."

Trevis covered his mouth, trying not to laugh. "That's... erm... that's performance art."

"Yeah, because I'd be screaming in terror. But the best one," she said, leaning in, "was the man who wanted me to pose as a 'desert mermaid'."

He lost it and actually laughed, loud and unfiltered. "Desert mermaid? What does that even mean? Dehydrated?"

They both laughed, the awkwardness between them dissolving into something warm and easy. Trevis shook his head, still smiling.

"Okay," he said, "I'm officially grateful you're normal."

Aurora raised her glass. "Same."

He tapped his glass lightly against hers. "To finally working with someone who gets it."

Trevis laughed softly. "People don't appreciate real art. They want the easy stuff. they don't want to put in the work to become something... permanent."

Aurora nodded, her finger tracing the edge of a heavy Victorian style bodice on the rack nearby. "I get that. I mean, look at your sketches. the hinged joints? That's genius. It's a little creepy, but in a way that makes you wanna keep looking."

"That's the goal," Trevis said, he voice dropping a pitch. He stepped closer, peering over her shoulder at the wardrobe. "You have the perfect bone structure for it, Aurora. High cheekbones, wide eyes. Once we get the lighting right, you won't even look human. You'll look like something kept under glass."

Aurora chuckled, though a tiny shiver that had nothing to do with the AC ran down her spine. "Hopefully a very expensive glass case."

She took a long, deep swallow of her drink to wash down the dry heat of the house. Then she felt warm. It was a thick, syrupy heat that seemed to pulse from the center of her chest out towards her limbs. She wiped a sudden bead of sweat from her forehead.

"You okay?" Trevis asked. Watching her with an intensity that made the room feel smaller. "You look a little flushed."

"I'm fine," she said, her voice sounding strangely distant to her own ears. She tried to laugh it off. "Must be that Barstow water you warned me about. You were right... I think I can feel the chromium 6 kickin' in. Erin Brockovich would have a field day with this pitcher."

She tried to set her glass down on the counter, but her coordination was off. The glass clinked loudly against the granite. She felt lightheaded. The rows of shoes on the shelved seemed to stretch into infinite lines and the dresses on the rack began to sway.

"Whoa," she murmured, swaying on her feet. "Maybe I shouldn't have... driven... in the... the heat."

"Easy now," Trevis said. He sounded concerned, but he didn't reach out to catch her. He just stood there, tilting his head like a scientist observing a reaction. "Does the room feel like it's moving, Aurora?"

"A little," she admitted. She tried to take a step toward the living room, but her legs felt like they were filled with sand. She stumbled, her shoulder hitting the doorframe.

Then the room tilted and the floor rushed up to meet her. The room was spinning into a blurred kaleidoscope of lace, camera lenses, and Trevis's smudged rectangular glasses. He stepped forward finally, catching her before she hit the ground, but he didn't pry her up with the frantic energy of someone helping an injured friend. He lowered her to the floor with a slow, practiced precision.

"Trevis?" She whispered, her tongue feeling too thick for her mouth.

He leaned over her, his shadow blocking out the studio lights. The "awkward photographer" mask was gone. He looked at her the way he might look at a sunset portrait, with a cold and satisfied pride.

"Don't worry about the water, Aurora," he whispered, his large teeth showing in a thin, sharp smile. "You're just transitioning. You're going to be my best one yet."

Her eyes drifted to the sketches he'd sent her, and she thought about the wide, glassy stares and the heart shaped mouths.

Still life, she thought, but the thought shattered as the darkness took her.

Aurora woke to cold air and dim light.

The ceiling above her was unfinished wood, the beams rough and splintered. A single bulb hung from cord, swaying slightly as if someone had brushed past it. The air smelled like dust.

She tried to sit up, but her body felt heavy and uncooperative, as if her limbs belonged to someone else. Her nervous system felt like it had been replaced with lead. She could see, she could hear, but when she told her fingers to twitch, the message simply died in the dark.

"Ah," a voice drifted from the shadows. "The first stage of the metabolism. You're awake."

Footsteps descended the stairs and Trevis stepped into the light, though he wasn't looking at her face. He was looking at his light meter.

"Tre... vis..." Her voice was a wet rasp, barely a vibration in her throat.

"Don't strain," he said, his tone as casual as if they were still in the kitchen. He adjusted a large, white reflector disc. "The neurotoxin is a derivative of a few things I've... refined. It keeps the muscles supple but the motor functions at zero. It's vital for the joints, you see? If you tensed up, you'd ruin the silhouette."

He walked past her, and as he did, the light from the swaying bulb crept across the perimeter of the room. Aurora's heart hammered against her ribs, the only part of her that still felt like hers.

She couldn't move her head, but she could move her eyes. They darted frantically, the only part of her body still governed by her will, tracing the horrifying architecture of the basement. The shadows at the edge of the single bulb's glow weren't just piles of equipment, they were silhouettes.

As her vision adjusted, the shapes resolved into a gallery of the macabre.

To her left, a girl stood frozen in a perpetual pirouette. She was balanced on the ball of one foot, her arms arched elegantly over her head. He skin had been buffed to a high, waxy sheen, and the joints of her knees and elbows were subtly carved to look like the ball and socket hinges of a Victorian porcelain doll. She didn't sway, despite the precariousness of the pose. She was bolted into the floor, a permanent ballerina in a dance that would never end.

Against the far wall, another figure sat at a small, wrought iron vanity. She was hunched slightly forward, a brush held delicately halfway to her hair, her pose so casual, so domestic, that for a heartbeat, Aurora expected her to finish the stroke. But the girl's chest didn't rise. Her wide, glass eyes stared into the vanity mirror, reflecting a face that had been painted into a mask of permanent, rosy cheeked surprise.

Everywhere she looked, another display. They were all dresses in the wardrobe she had seen upstairs. The realization hit Aurora with a sickening weight. They weren't just dead, they were curated. Each one had been drained of her humanity and refilled with Trevis's vision. They were standing, sitting, dancing, and posing in a silent, eternal theater, and as Trevis stepped back into her line of sight, Aurora realized with a jolt of pure terror that he was already looking at the empty space on the floor beside her.

To her right sat a girl in a Victorian nursey set, her skin a ghostly, buffed white. Her hands were folded in her lap, fingers slightly curled just like the sketch. She was perfectly preserved. Her skin looked like polished marble, poreless and cold. But it was their eyes that froze Aurora's blood. They weren't human eyes. They were oversized glass spheres, reflecting the single bulb with a terrifying permanent shine.

"They were all like you," Trevis said, crouching beside Aurora. He pulled a sketchbook from his back pocket and began to draw with a charcoal pencil, his eyes darting from her face to the page. "They wanted to be seen. they wanted to be special. But the world is so messy, Aurora. People age. They sweat. They move. They blink. They shit. They get sick."

He reached and traced the line of her jaw with a cold, gloved finger.

"I'm giving you what you wanted," he whispered. "I'm making you a diamond. I'm making you permanent."

"Please," she managed to choke out. A single tear tracked slowly down her temple.

Trevis sighed, looking disappointed. He pulled a small silk cloth from his pocket and gently, almost tenderly, wiped the tear away. "No, no. No salt water on the canvas. It ruins the finish."

He stood up and walked to a workbench littered with surgical tools and rows of glass eyes in every shade of blue, green, and hazel.

"You mentioned the desert mermaid," he said with a small, dry chuckle. "I sort of thought about it. but no. "You're my Joshua Tree girl. You're the sunset."

He returned to her with a small syringe and a tray. He knelt by her head, his shadow looming over her, blotting out the ceiling.

"The paralysis will deepen no," he said, his voice dropping to a soothing, creepy lullaby. "You won't feel the incisions. You'll just feel peaceful. And when you wake up, you'll never have to worry about a bad angle ever again. You'll be the most beautiful thing I've ever made."

He leaned in close, his breath smelled of cinnamon gum, not a single hint of the drink he had given her. How could she have been so stupid? He kissed her forehead gently.

"Hold still, Aurora. Let's make those eyes just right."

As the needle entered her neck, the world blurred for the final time. The last thing she saw was Trevis holding up two perfect, luminous glass spheres, checking them against the light.

Trevis sat at his computer upstairs. The glow of the monitor reflected in his eyes as he uploaded a new gallery to MojaveModels.com. the wind outside was screaming and throwing sand against the windows, but the house felt as quiet and still as a tomb, just the way he liked it.

His fingers moved with practiced ease, selecting the best shots. He lingered on the close-up. the skin was flawless, the lighting had caught the new glass eyes perfectly, giving them that signature white-dot shine. She didn't look like a girl from Windy Pass anymore. She looked like an icon. She was his best piece yet... his masterpiece.

Trevis leaned closer into the blue light of the monitor, his face illuminated by the digital glow of his perfect piece of art. He clicked the mouse, and the high resolution image of Aurora expanded to fill the screen. It was breathtaking, a triumph of taxidermy and technique.

Aurora sat amidst a bed of cracked, sun bleached earth he had hauled into the basement to recreate the Mojave. Behind her, a painted backdrop of a bleeding orange sunset cast a warm, deceptive glow over her form.

But it was the eyes that anchored the composition.

He had chosen them specifically for her. they were a deep, honeyed brown shot through with vibrant golden flecks that mimicked the glint of mica in the desert sand. They were oversized, high domes glass spheres that sat deep in her sockets, reflecting the ring light of his studio as two perfect, white pinpricks of life. They would never move or weep again. They would only stare back with a beautiful intensity, forever focused on Trevis and a horizon only he could see.

Her skin had been treated until it possessed the matte, velvety texture of fine bisque. Gone were the tiny imperfections, the flush of blood, the sweat of the Barstow heat, the pores, and the small wrinkles caused by the sun. She was a desert flower in permanent bloom, her lips painted a soft, dusty rose and parted just enough to suggest a gasp that would never be exhaled.

Her long, sandy blonde hair had been meticulously styled. He had used a heavy duty fixative to freeze it in a windblown sweep and the strands fanned out as if caught by a permanent gust of the Windy Pass gale.

She was no longer a girl with a bettered Kodak and a dream. She was an object. She was a "Still Life." She was his.

Trevis sighed, a sound of profound contentment. He reached out and traced the curve of the monitor where her glassy eyes stared back at him. They were so much better than the ones she'd been born with. these ones would never blink away the light.

He typed in a title for his new collection:

Aurora- Doll Series

And then he hit upload.

The thumbnails populated the screen.

Comments appeared almost immediately.

"Gorgeous!" One user wrote.

"You are extremely talented!" Another posted.

The silence in his home was interrupted by the tiny pink of a new private message. Trevis clicked on it and smiled as his eyes darted over the words on the screen.

DesertDaisy: These are incredible! I'd love to book with you next. I'm in Barstow too!

Trevis leaned back, a smug pride swelling in his chest. He adjusted the smudged glasses and began to type a reply.

Trevis: It's all about finding the right subject. Someone who really knows how to keep still. When are you free?

He clicked send.

He always knew he was talented.

Authors Note:

This is one of 20 short horror stories you can read in my new book, Get Your Kicks on Route 666. This story was actually inspired by my short-lived time as a model and though the story itself isn't true. Some elements inside of it are. If you want to read more, you can purchase to book below or read for free if you have Kindle Unlimited!

-Sara